


The End of All Hope

by Cerch



Series: The Darkness of the Dawn [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, Arthur Returns, Dark Arthur, Gen, Immortal Merlin, M/M, Possible Character Death, Post 5.13, Reincarnation, Suicidal Thoughts, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-04 23:24:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerch/pseuds/Cerch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur rises at the Albion's hour of need, but it might just be that the need rises with him and not against him.</p><p>(also known as: The story where the author decided that Merlin's life could be a little bit more unhappy.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How the world fell apart

**Author's Note:**

> There will be at least an epilogue (soon!), unless I decide to make this a longer story. (Unlikely.) 
> 
> Also, I'm really sorry about this, okay? (As in, if you are looking for puppies and rainbows run while you still can.)
> 
> Not betaed, brit-picked, etc...

_“Take heart, for when Albion’s need is greatest, Arthur will rise again.”_

_They should have let Arthur rest. They should have let Merlin die._

XXXX

It probably started when the Nordic countries left the European Union. Norway suffered from an unbearable case of smugness and “I told you so” attitude for a while.

Already fighting against the depression, the central Europe fell. Next was United Kingdom, turning towards the strong northern alliance and United States.

It didn’t save anyone, of course. The modern economy was global no matter what you did and the over strong northerner currency just made the plunge worse. Soon there was no European Union and no NATO. Then even the countries started breaking apart. Suddenly there were four independent countries on British Isles and fifty countries where used to be fifty states of United States. Russia kept together, but barely.

Without anyone knowing quite how, China became the most powerful player on the political field. India was close second with Russia focusing all its strength inwards. That was when the dictators began to rise – dictator’s prepared for cyberwar, with nuclear weapons and dangerous resources for biological warfare. Balance shifted again.

When one dictator started his conquer of the whole Europe from Wales, Merlin turned towards to Avalon. He might have been able to stop arrows and even bullets, but he could only ever protect so many men. Against radiation and bioweapons he was powerless.

But there was a traitorous hope brimming inside him, whispering about Albion’s greatest need. Surely it was finally the time for Arthur to come back.

 

XXXX

 

Avalon is beautiful as always, now almost completely removed from the world and cloaked by the Earth’s own magic. No earthly wind ripples its waters and no living person apart from Merlin has visited it in centuries. After watching the civilisation to fall apart it feels like safe, peaceful haven.

He sends a silent greeting to Freya, frowning when he receives no response. She has faded greatly since the days of Old Magic but he has always been able to sense her. With a pang he realises that it has been more than hundred years since he has last seen her. It had been just before everything had fallen apart. He had been busy, trying to stop it from happening – and failing as always.

There seems to be no trace of Freya’s magical signature anywhere but something else catches his attention on the beach. He knows what it is before he sees it.

Excalibur has been struck to the ground, a painful parallel to the time when it stood in the stone. He approaches, waiting for some other sign of Arthur but nothing happens and he reaches for it carefully.

_I am so sorry, Merlin. You’ll find Arthur in Camelot._

Freya’s voice is full of sadness and Merlin can’t understand why she is apologizing. He is drowning in happiness which even the loss of Freya can’t quite diminish. Maybe she is apologizing for leaving him and not being able to share this moment with him. They had both waited this for a long time. It is a shame but she deserves her rest.

 

Naturally, the Camelot as Merlin knew it is long gone. But there is a new city there, one of the most important ones of the rising empire. With a chuckle Merlin thinks how typical it is for Arthur to appear right in the eye of the storm. It is a beautiful city in its own way, full of glass and ambiguous lines, though the years are already starting to wear it down. It is also quieter than Merlin remembers, but he doesn’t pay it much heed, trying to locate the golden light he has come to associate with Arthur.

The main square, however, is full of people dressed in black.  The flags are half-mast and an ornamental coffin stands in the middle of it all, guarded by soldiers in black uniforms apart from their red capes. Merlin stops and frowns at them, trying to figure out why the colour bothers him. What was the shade of Camelot’s red? He can’t remember but feels like this has come unfortunately close.

He has barely time to duck out of the way when the crowd parts, but something makes him turn back even before that. There is a wisp of gold there, though it feels somehow pale and cold compared to the feeling he remembers. When he sees him, he needs to grab a nearby wall for support.

He is dressed in the same uniform as the soldiers, but it bears golden ornaments, setting him apart from everyone else. Merlin doesn’t quite remember what Arthur used to look like, but he remembers the blue eyes and golden hair, and even apart from that it all seems so right.

Arthur kneels in front of the coffin and as one the crowd follows him. Merlin is glad he cloaked himself, because he doesn’t want to attract attention – not yet. Especially because there are hot tears falling of his cheeks.

_Finally._

Arthur’s eyes are dry as he rises, but Merlin knows it must be a mask. Always so brave and strong and Merlin just wants to go and hug him, let him cry and hide his tears to Merlin’s shirt. But there is time for all of that later.

A huge screens light up around the square showing a close up of Arthur’s face.

“My father, the emperor, was a great man” Merlin wonders if it had been Uther all again. The emperor had certainly been a vile man, raining destruction on the world with ruthlessness he knows Uther once possessed. He tunes out the speech and just watches Arthur, imagining how they will fix the world together. Smile on his face must look maniac, but he doesn’t care and nobody will notice it anyway. This time it will go right.

Something on Arthur’s face brings him back to reality. It is rage, contained, but still clearly there.

“You know I have led the Emperor’s troops relentlessly for years.” _No, that cannot be right._ “Rest assured that I will show no mercy to those who try to stand in our way. There is no redemption for those responsible for my father's murder. This is what happens to traitors.”

He produces a small device from his pocket and Merlin watches with dread as the view on the screen changes.

Merlin recognises the city as New York. Despite everything the statue of liberty is still standing proudly. He doesn't understand. A public execution is the only thing he can imagine. But why New York? But then the view shifts again, this time to a flying missile. He must be dreaming – besides the missile shields are still in place. Maybe this is just a misplaced show of force driven by grief.

Except the missile doesn’t stop. It lands somewhere in the central city. For a second nothing happens before the whole city goes up in a mushroom cloud. He tells himself that this is a trick. Arthur would never have launched anything as destructive as nuclear missile. Maybe it was something else. He remembers hearing that vacuum bombs can cause such a cloud. But is that really any better? It could be an animation. That's the only possible explanation.

“We disabled the shields using a virus.” _No._ “Four other missiles were sent to other cities with connections to the assassin.” _No!_ “My right to rule is divine! I will continue my father’s work and bring the whole world together!” _NO!_ The man smiles, for surely Merlin is wrong and this man is no Arthur, raising his fist to the air and the crowd erupts to enthusiastic shouts.

“My name is Arthur Pendragon, and you will either fight by my side or die by my hand!”

The world spins.


	2. How Merlin decided the end

Words cannot begin to describe the relief he feels when he realises that this Arthur doesn’t remember his past life.

In his godlike status Emperor Arthur also tells stories about his legendary reign as King Arthur. And they are all wrong, clearly products of later stories rather than their actual lives. When he sees Emperor Arthur on the large screens talking about Merlin, his old and wise mentor, but scoffing at the tales of magic as simple superstition, the real Merlin almost weeps. When he recovers he laughs at the irony of a man claiming to be a reincarnated legendary king and calling magic superstition in the same breath.

This Arthur, who has killed so many people that Uther’s purge of magic users seems like child’s play, is not Merlin’s king. Except he is. Somewhere, underneath all the denial, in quiet moments the traitorous knowledge that this really is Arthur reborn, just without memories, rises in Merlin’s mind. And when that thought takes hold it clings to his mind, gnawing at the edges and whispering madness.

He is almost sure he could bring back Arthur’s memories with his magic, rip apart the blocks that separate the lives of a soul. Besides, Arthur is no ordinary person, but the once and future king, so maybe a simple trigger would do it. If he were to grasp the hilt of Excalibur in his hands or look upon Merlin’s face. The fates would not have intended this to be Arthur’s destiny.

 

It doesn’t take him any real effort to sneak into the Emperor’s palace. With couple of easy spells he is undetectable for both human eyes and technology. He doesn’t bother cloaking against other magic users: they are too few and their magic is so weak that most of them are not even aware of it. He thinks it would be possible to develop technology capable of detecting magic but nobody has wasted resources on it seeing as magic doesn’t exist. Just as Merlin doesn’t exist for the alarm systems and the security feed.

The lower levels are full of people, suits in a hurry with entitled air around them and soldiers in uniform moving around in slow and precise patterns. The walls are decorated with extravagant paintings and rugs of medieval battles and Arthurian legends. Merlin scowls at distaste and lets his eyes flash briefly to bring one particularly ugly rug about Lancelot’s and Guinevere’s betrayal. The real Arthur wouldn’t have wanted to have the names of his queen and noblest knight sullied so. He cackles quietly when the nearby suits and guards jump at the heavy thump.

One would hardly know that the upper levels belonged to the same building. There are not decorations along the hallways, just big windows giving a vast view into the city. They are also mostly empty: just a couple of guards who aren’t even patrolling, but standing at strategically located posts. Merlin wonders what goes on in the rooms with locked doors and lets himself briefly scry into one he passes. While his scrying has never been particularly good at this distance it requires him no more than a thought.

He startles when his mind is flooded with images of swords, maces and armour. More Arthurian decorations? He doesn’t understand why they would be kept here, locked away, though. Surely a sword on this Arthur’s belt would fit his image. He could even claim it to be Excalibur and nobody would dispute it – only Merlin would know and care. Absently he touches the hilt of the sword on his belt before turning away from the riddle. It bears no real importance for all that matters is getting Merlin’s Arthur back.

 

There is a golden dragon painted on a red shield hanging above the door. Merlin doesn’t need to see it to know this is where he will find Arthur from. His magic is physically straining against him, trying to reach out to Arthur and getting confused and forceful at the lack of response from Arthur’s aura. Merlin tries to tell it that soon everything will be as it is supposed to, but it is all instinctual spirit without humanly concepts so it just strains harder. He stops for a second, hand hovering over the door handle to direct his magic to something more useful: opening any locks and disabling alarms, and takes a fortifying breath before opening the door.

The walls are covered in screens and their pale light gives Arthur an eerie glow. Unfortunately, Arthur’s desk is facing the door. He supposes it’s only logical and his cloaking spells stop this Arthur from making too much of it – he is practically screaming “there is nothing here” to everyone’s subconscious. He notes with interest that despite it this Arthur reaches for his gun and fiddles with it idly with the same time as he speaks to his phone. Good instincts.

 

Merlin can’t really make much of the call. It is always hard to understand a conversation based on only half of it, and this one is riddled with military and technology slang, neither which Merlin is terribly familiar with. He supposes the call probably relates to the information rapidly changing on the screens but that is undecipherable as well, just symbols and numbers flashing away with updates.

As the call goes on Arthur turns more and more agitated. His voice gives nothing away but Merlin can read his posture like he always could. Maybe his Arthur is shining through even here. His king always carried the world on his shoulders.

“Make an example,” says this Arthur icily to the phone.

“Everyone who feels that this clashes with their morals can stay in the city to help,” Arthur chuckles, “ I won’t force anyone. It won’t make a difference because you are going to execute the plan anyway.”

Arthur listens for a while and Merlin smiles a wet smile because he knows he can drag his Arthur out of this man. His Arthur never forced anyone to follow him – he had their loyalty and love.

“I know it’s half million people. The person who released the smallpox has been punished for his negligence.” Arthur sighs. “It is tragic but we cannot allow it to spread and the vaccinations would be horridly expensive. Burn it or I’ll find someone else who will.”

The slam that Arthur’s phone makes when it hits the table breaks Merlin’s heart into half a million pieces.

 

One of the screen changes to broadcast a live picture. He doesn’t let himself to look at it but undoes his cloaking spells instead. The gun is pointing at him before he is even finished.

“Who are you?” The Emperor – not Arthur, never his Arthur – demands.

Slowly he throws his hood back; he has always had some taste for dramatics.

“Nobody.” He says. The Emperor takes in his face but there is no recognition and he doesn’t want there to be. Arthur would never forgive himself for this, even if it wasn’t really _his_ fault. He would want someone to stop him and Merlin has always, always, striven to do Arthur’s bidding.

“What do you want? This table is shielded, you cannot hurt me.” It’s mostly bluff, of course; the Emperor knows that Merlin has already gotten through all his layers of security, so there is no certainty that his last precaution will hold. Merlin just shrugs and draws Excalibur.

He doesn’t do anything threatening, just rests its tip against the floor.

“Can you take that order back? Order them to give out the vaccines and medication?”

“I could,” says the Emperor and fires his gun at him.

The bullet drops with a flash of his eyes. The gun is surprisingly old fashioned, not that it makes any difference.

 

Only now does the Emperor’s demeanour betray him.

“What are you?” he asks, voice high pitched.

Merlin smiles tiredly. “The most powerful sorcerer to even walk on Earth.”

For all the good that ever did for him. He lifts Excalibur.

“And this is Excalibur.” A sword that is probably capable of killing even him. Suddenly his smile is a little bit more genuine. 

 

He disables the shield and walks to the Emperor.

“I’ll pay you anything.” The voice is frantic. “No, you’re crazy, please.” Then: “You won’t survive this.”

“I don’t intend to,” he says and meets the Emperor’s gaze as he plunges Excalibur into his body. The half a million pieces of his heart break again as the body that looks identical to that of his kings slides to the floor, gasping for breath. Merlin slides after him, intending to ease his passage with magic. Everyone deserves a painless death.

He swipes a golden strand of hair away from the boy’s face, for that is what the Emperor is, and curses their destiny as his tears fall freely. The boy fights in a new breath of air. It comes out with a pained whisper:

_“Merlin.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are treasured. I'm sorry for any pain that I have caused.


End file.
